Past Prologue
by Cobalt Tatsuki
Summary: Nom Anor is made aware of a top secret discovery on the library world of Obroa skai, and discovers a way to not only win the war against the New Republic for the Yuuzhan Vong, but to establish himself as Supreme Overlord...
1. Dramatis Personae

**Star Wars: The New Jedi Order**

**Past Prologue**

_Dramatis Personae_

Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Wedge Antilles; New Republic general (male human)

Nas Choka; Supreme Commander (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Jagged Fel; fighter pilot (male human)

Mara Jade Skywalker; Jedi Master (female human)

Shimmra Jamaane; Supreme Overlord (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Traest Kre'fey; Admiral (male Bothan)

Tsavong Lah; warmaster (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Leia Organa Solo; diplomat (female human)

Gilad Pellaeon; Imperial Admiral (male human)

Saba Sebatyne; Jedi Master (female Barabel)

Tesar Sebatyne; Jedi Knight (male Barabel)

Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

Han Solo; Captain, _Millennium Falcon_ (male human)

Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Harak Tal; Master Shaper (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Vergere; Jedi Knight (female Fosh)

Nen Yim; Master Shaper (female Yuuzhan Vong)

**Setting: During _Destiny's Way_.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The sun was high in the sky over the library world of Obroa-skai as Nom Anor walked down the yorik-coral ramp from his personal shuttle, and immediately, the executor found himself uncomfortably warm.

It had been winter on Coruscant –-Yuuzhan'tar, Nom Anor corrected himself, and he had not considered the seasonal difference between the two worlds when choosing his robes. The creature that made up his elaborate, layered garment was designed to keep heat in, and as a result, Nom Anor began to sweat under the sweltering heat of Obroa-skai's primary.

Nom Anor silently cursed Yuuzhan'tar's mischievous dhuryam as he wiped sweat from his brow. The creature had been corrupted by the detestable Jedi, Jacen Solo, and as a result, seemed to be taking particular pleasure in irritating the Yuuzhan Vong who were occupying the world that had once been Coruscant. Instead of aiding in the worldshaping, the dhuryam had been causing torrential rainfall, and even snow on Yuuzhan'tar; both of which were severely impeding the work of the shapers.

Not unfamiliar with being constantly foiled, Nom Anor felt a certain empathy for the Master Shaper, Nen Yim and High Priest Jakan, both of whom were responsible for bringing the dhuryam under control.

"Welcome to Obroa-skai, Nom Anor," said Supreme Commander Nas Choka, approaching him, flanked by several bodyguards. Nom Anor doubted that Choka needed any protection; despite being small for a warrior, the Supreme Commander was both formidable in battle, and in possession of a shrewd mind, well concealed behind scarred and mutilated features that proudly displayed his rank; second only to the Warmaster.

_Perhaps Nas Choka missed his calling as an Intendant_, Nom Anor mused.

With a long, deep bow, Nom Anor addressed Nas Choka. "I am pleased to be here, Fearsome One," he replied. "The climate, if nothing else, is much more…temperate."

If Nas Choka picked up on the joke, he showed no sign of it. "You are not displeased to be on a world so covered in machinery?"

Nom Anor smiled faintly. "I have learned to shield my displeasure over the many years I have been here, Fearsome One. Do not mistake my indifference for comfort."

With an appreciative nod, Nas Choka gestured for Nom Anor to approach him, and when he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Supreme Commander, Nom Anor continued.

"The message I received on Yuuzhan'tar sounded urgent. Is there something here the intendants under your command are having difficulty with?"

Nas Choka made a sound of disgust as the entourage walked past a destroyed data tower. Nom Anor regretted that Obroa-skai had not been taken bloodlessly, but alas, such was not the Yuuzhan Vong way. Much of the data on the library world had been destroyed in the fighting, but still a significant portion remained for the Yuuzhan Vong to translate.

Cracking his left shoulder, Nas Choka gave Nom Anor a sideways glance, but kept walking toward the central complex of the library, still an infidel metal construction.

"There was no difficulty in the translation," the Supreme Commander said gruffly.

Wiping yet more sweat from his forehead, and squinting under the midday sun, Nom Anor was puzzled. "Then what, Fearsome One, is my duty here?"

"To offer your insights," Nas Choka said, not looking at him. The Supreme Commander walked broodingly through the smashed-open main door of the Obroa-skai library, and his four bodyguards took up strategic positions around the door and the chamber.

Nom Anor surveyed the chamber quickly. Much of it was in ruin, and despite the library having been in Yuuzhan Vong hands for more than two years, little had been repaired, or replaced by Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology. Nom Anor watched as Nas Choka walked up to one of the shapers who was monitoring the data towers. The Supreme Commander stopped at the base of the vile machine.

"You, shaper!" he barked.

With an unnaturally fast twisting of a gangly neck, the shaper Nas Choka had shouted at looked at him with a pair of grossly mismatched eyes; one small and red, the other a shimmering veneer of emerald that seemed to ripple like water.

"_Belek tiu_, Potent One, I am honoured," the hideous shaper replied, apparently not offended by Nas Choka's omission of his name or title. Much to the executor's amazement, the shaper then jumped from his twenty metre high-perch, and landed gracefully on one foot in front of Nom Anor, so quickly that the Executor jerked back in surprise.

"Executor Nom Anor," he said, bowing his head, which showed a great many obscure modifications that made sense only to shapers, though none were as strange as his eyes. Not being a stranger to mismatched visual organs, even Nom Anor's venom-spitting playerin bol that sat in place of one of his natural eyes, looked quite mundane compared to the iridescent green eye in this bizarre shaper's left socket.

Nas Choka stepped up behind the unnamed shaper, so as to face Nom Anor. "Nom Anor, this is Master Shaper Harak Tal, guardian and overseer of Obroa-skai's libraries."

Nodding almost indiscernibly, Nom Anor remained fixed on Harak Tal's bizarre eyeball. "I am honoured, Master Shaper."

"Of course you are," the shaper said dryly, nodding his head emphatically, and then looking to Nas Choka. "This is the one Lord Shimmra sent to me?"

Nas Choka cracked his knuckles, in what Nom Anor knew to be a warrior caste equivalent of shrugging. "The Supreme Overlord thought that Nom Anor's expertise in infidel terms would be useful to you."

That piqued Nom Anor's interest. Something even the shapers and other intendants could not decipher? Nom Anor was flattered to think that Shimmra had chosen him personally.

Deciding it was time for him to speak, Nom Anor gave Nas Choka a sidelong glance, and then cast his attention on Obroa-skai's grotesque Master Shaper.

"What is it you require my assistance with?" he asked, restraining a smug smile.

Before the shaper could reply, Nas Choka was summoned to a villip-choir on one of the ruined walls. Though he was too far away to hear the entire conversation, Nom Anor watched as the creature inverted itself to form an imitation of Warmaster Tsavong Lah, looking decidedly excited.

Nas Choka stood for many moments in front of the organic communications device, listening, and try as he did, Nom Anor heard nothing save for one word.

"Chiss," Tsavong Lah's villip said, and that was all Nom Anor heard, before it became an inert lump of biomass.

Nas Choka did not even bother bidding farewell. Instead, he gathered his guards and hurried out of the enormous door, his hand clenched firmly on his amphistaff.

Pondering what the Warmaster may have been talking about, Nom Anor forgot almost completely that he had another task ahead of him. The Chiss were an isolationist race of near-humans with an interstellar empire hidden in what the New Republic and its allies called the Unknown Regions, and they had chosen, most wisely, to remain out of the Yuuzhan Vong's holy crusade. It was believed by many that the Chiss were the ones responsible for the destruction of one of Shimmra's earliest scouts into the galaxy, after the Yuuzhan Vong's embarrassing defeat at the living world Zonama Sekot.

Suddenly, Harak Tal's hideously deformed face was leering at Nom Anor, rousing him from his reverie quite unpleasantly. The Master Shaper made a grandiose gesture toward one of the smaller doors leading out of the main library. His green eyeball flashed at Nom Anor.

Keeping his head held high, Nom Anor walked side-by-side with Harak Tal, out of the main chamber and into a darkened hallway, leading out into one of the secondary storage areas. The floor was covered in bioluminescent lichen which replaced the infidel fusion lamps, giving the corridor a green, distinctly eerie light.

Nom Anor glanced down at the floor, where several Chazrach lizard creatures were sleeping, presumably having finished their work for the day. He snorted indignantly. No supervisor on Yuuzhan'tar would leave the Chazrach to sleep. Any found doing so were thrown alive into the maw luur to be digested. Very slowly.

Pushing open a metal door with his two-fingered shaper's hand, Harak Tal gestured for Nom Anor to follow him, which he did, walking with a confident step into the smaller library, which was occupied by only two other low-level shapers, and one Bothan female who was implanted, quite obviously, judging by her wounds, with a slave seed, keeping her under control.

Harak Tal was approached immediately by one of the junior shapers; a female, with a tall, writhing headdress and small, delicate hands. She passed Harak Tal a small qahsa – a living datapad – and then returned to her work, whatever that was; the work of shapers was fairly mysterious, even to Nom Anor.

Raising his head up imperiously, Harak Tal scanned the qahsa quickly, and then shoved it into the hands of a surprised Nom Anor.

"Read it," Harak Tal said sharply.

Holding the qahsa in one hand, but not reading it, Nom Anor shot the shaper a displeased look. "What is it?"

Narrowing his mismatched eyes, Harak Tal laughed acidly. "Read it, and you will find out, Nom Anor." Harak Tal's green eye flashed once.

Nom Anor sighed dejectedly. It seemed as though everywhere he went, _someone_ was giving him ridiculous orders. He pressed the qahsa gently with one finger, and the translucent membrane on the surface shimmered to life. The first line of Yuuzhan Vong script read, in large letters, **Top Secret Data**.

As if he knew what Nom Anor was reading, Harak Tal leered at the executor with his grotesque features. "We found this data only recently. It was amongst the most highly encrypted files in the entire library," the malformed shaper said, sounding pleased with himself.

Ignoring the repulsive shaper as best he could, Nom Anor continued to read the contents of the qahsa. The file was marked several more times with **Top Secret** and other similar warnings like **Highly Classified** and **Eyes Only** warning for high ranking governmental personnel from organisations spanning the Old Republic to the Empire, and also contained several such attachments from New Republic Intelligence.

Continuing to go through the qahsa as quickly as he could, Nom Anor had still not reached the actual title of the document, and the whole time, Harak Tal was watching him, practically trembling with excitement.

Finally, having gone through four pages of warnings, most from the late Emperor Palpatine's Inquisitors, Nom Anor reached the title of the qahsa's top-secret contents.

In bold Basic lettering, not translated into Yuuzhan Vong, Nom Anor saw why the shapers had called for an expert. They had stumbled upon perhaps the greatest profanation in a galaxy of profanations.

Reading the words, Nom Anor began shaking with excitement himself.

"The Ultimate Weapon," he said in Yuuzhan Vong, for the benefit of the Master Shaper. "A time machine."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Vergere sat at the helm of the small Yuuzhan Vong coralcraft that she and Jacen had stolen from Coruscant; her soft, colourful plumage rippling in the rank wind that passed through the ships' organic air recycling system.

By her side, Jacen was in a deep Force-trance, seeking out his family, from whom she had isolated him on Coruscant, both physically and through the Force. Despite his deep entrenchment in the mystical energies of the Force, Vergere had been close enough to Jacen for long enough to sense joy in him. Or rather, a sense of satisfaction at having accomplished a task. Vergere had shaped Jacen, much as the Yuuzhan Vong had shaped Coruscant.

The difference was, Vergere knew, that whilst the Yuuzhan Vong had only succeeded in adding yet another layer to the mosaic that was Coruscant's surface, she had broken Jacen down into nothing; she had taken everything from him, and built him up from simply the essence of his being. A lesser Jedi would have wilted; would have given up in the face of her brutal, if necessary teachings.

But Jacen Solo had not, and for that, Vergere was as proud of him as she had ever been proud of anyone.

Reaching out subtly with the Force, Vergere could sense Jacen searching across the unfathomable distances that separated him from his family. Piggybacking on his sensations, Vergere felt him touch his mother, who was farther than Jacen had expected, and for a moment, Vergere shared his joy at finding her.

She felt Jacen touch his Master, Luke Skywalker, and Vergere reminded herself that the new master of the Jedi Order would undoubtedly have many questions for her.

Vergere concentrated and followed Jacen's mind out into space and he searched for Jaina, his twin sister. Joy radiated from Jacen like the light of a sun, but before Vergere could share it, she was suddenly forced back to herself, as it were.

Shocked, Vergere looked at Jacen. He was still meditating, and she doubted that he had pushed her out, for it was unlikely he had detected her at all.

Instead, Vergere realised, that what she had experienced had not been a push from Jacen, but from the Force itself. Jacen had told her the story of the destruction of Alderaan; how Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt a disturbance in the Force as Alderaan's billions of lives were extinguished by the Death Star.

But what Vergere had felt had not been so much a disturbance, as one might disturb a pond by casting a stone into it; rather, it was more like a ripple caused by a single drop of rain. Vergere had felt the ripple only because her presence in the Force had been so small.

In a moment of cognisant knowledge, Vergere knew, if only briefly, what the ripple was.

"Nom Anor," she whispered.

"What about him?"

Vergere realised suddenly that Jacen was standing over her, looking down with his dark brown eyes, and smiling knowingly, evidently pleased with having surprised her.

Vergere's feathers rippled. "I wonder how long Shimmra will keep him alive?"

Jacen narrowed his eyes at his would-be teacher, and laughed at her. "I don't believe you. Why did you mention him?"

Looking offended, Vergere made a sharp, jingling sound; her own way of snorting indignantly. "And why do you not believe me, Jacen Solo, Avatar of God?" she asked, mocking him with the title the Yuuzhan Vong had given him during his sham conversion to the True Path.

"_Everything I tell you is a lie_," Jacen retorted evenly.

Frowning at her own teachings being used against her, Vergere sighed. "I felt a disturbance in the Force," she admitted. "I was…monitoring your presence in the Force and ---"

"You were spying on me?" Jacen interrupted.

"I was _monitoring_ you," Vergere repeated. "My Force presence was very small, and I felt…I suppose you would call it a ripple in the ocean of the universe. Something very, very small."

Jacen nodded. "And you felt Nom Anor?" he asked sceptically.

Shaking her feathered head emphatically, Vergere replied: "Of course not. You know as well as anyone that the Yuuzhan Vong are invisible to the Force." She breathed deeply. "What I felt was the aftermath of something of his doing; an indirect sensation, if you will."

"Maybe just excitement about being away from the Yuuzhan Vong for the first time in five decades is making you sense things that are not there?" Jacen suggested in playful, but mocking tones.

Vergere rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Instead, she turned her eyes back to the front of the coralcraft, and placed the cognition hood over her small head. The device, which functioned as a combination helm and tactical display, flooded Vergere's mind with information. She sought out what she wanted, and found it in little time.

"We are on the edge of the Mon Calamari star system," Vergere said, keeping her eyes closed, and focusing through the cognition hood, expanding her sensations into the hyperspace around the coralcraft. "A small New Republic fleet is positioned ahead of us. The craft recognises several of them as the _Elegos A'Kla_ and the _Mon Mothma_."

Jacen was then promptly thrown back against the coral bulkhead as their ship was dragged out of hyperspace somewhat unexpectedly. The pain did not bother Jacen as much as it should have done, he thought, and he stood up again, positioned behind Vergere, who was still wearing the cognition hood.

"_Yuuzhan Vong craft_," a voice boomed through the coralcraft's internal communication system. Jacen recognised it immediately, and he interrupted.

"Wedge Antilles," Jacen said evenly. "We've travelled a long way to get here, and I'd be a bit upset if you shot us down before I can say hello to my parents."

There were audible hoots and sounds of celebration as Jacen spoke. Obviously his voice was more distinctive that he realised. The transparent membrane at the front of the coralcraft showed two modified _Imperial II-_class Star Destroyers, both equipped both interdiction generators, surrounded by smaller ships, ranging from Corellian corvettes, to _Ranger_-class gunships.

"_Jacen Solo_," Wedge said, smiling, judging by the tone of his voice. "_And who is your travelling partner?_"

"I am Vergere," came the reply from the diminutive Fosh.

The clamour died down on the other end of the communication, but Wedge still sounded jovial. "_We'll work out the fine details when we get you to Fleet Command. But for now, on behalf of the _Mon Mothma _and the New Republic, welcome to Mon Calamari_."


End file.
